


Bakers

by Dirk_From_Statefarm



Category: Original Works
Genre: F/F, Unfinished, not going to finish most likely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 14:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirk_From_Statefarm/pseuds/Dirk_From_Statefarm
Summary: All mistakes are mine





	Bakers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilNeps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilNeps/gifts).



> All mistakes are mine

Anavrin worked at the dough that sat on the cutting board. Her mind drifted to thoughts of her queen. The moon to her sun. The woman was sleek in how she dressed. Truly royal. Perfectly perfect. Anavrin glanced down at her hands, watching her fingers sink into dough while her scabbed and bruised knuckles stayed in sight, coated in flour. Dorcha would not be overly pleased by the sight but she would be happy to see her nonetheless. Right? Right… taking the dough and pressing it into a bread pan, Anavrin slid it into the oven before leaning against the counter. Maybe she should wait until the bruising was healed? No...Dorcha never did like it when she did that. She preferred to see her no matter what condition she was in. Her queen was something from a story. Someone anyone would die to be with. Or at least Anavrin would die for her. She would die for her over and over without a second thought if it meant her happiness was a guarantee. The baker wiped her hands clean, and walked towards the front of the shop. 

“Mama.” An older woman turned away from the pastry case that she had been filling. Deep wrinkles were set in her face, creasing only more as she offered a gentle smile. Her green eyes were tired though, the bags under her eyes sagging with bags on those bags. Shaking calloused hands set down an empty metal tray on the counter. 

“Yes, my little star?” Her mother was a tired woman. The young girl began to wonder when her father would return from the market to help stock things. “Anavrin?” 

“Hm?” Oh. She flinched and fought the urge to get down on her knees and expect the worst. Because her mother was not a cruel woman. Her mother was not her commander and she herself was no longer a Royal Knight. Spacing out was not something she would be punished for in her own home. Though, she bowed and apologized out of habit anyways. “I apologize. I would like to go see Dorcha. Is that alright? Is there anything you would like me to take with me to give her?” Her Queen was one to be praised to the highest heaven. Anavrin already had a small bag in her hands, carrying sweets that she usually brought along. 

“No, no that’s alright. Do tell her I said hello though.” Anavrin nodded before setting out, mounting the horse she owned.


End file.
